What If?
by riddlememarvolo
Summary: What if the One Ring fell into the hands of the young Peter Pettigrew? Would he have fallen into Voldemort's hands? Or would it have been the other way around? Would Lilly and James have lived? Would anyone have survived? Read on to find out!
1. A bad day

It had been a horrible day for the round Gryffindor boy. First Siruis caught a cold and was strapped down to some bed in the hospital wing so he could get better. James was so obsessed with quidditch he hardly acknowledge the small boy who tried to talk to him, and Remus had "disappeared" again.

A bull's-eye should have been written across his chest. 

He was leaning over the fountain's edge, peering into the water's trying futilely to straighten his tie when there came a rough shove from behind. The gryffindor gave a yelp and flailed his arms before falling into the fountain. 

Amid the laughter and the rush of the water that was spilling from a spout over his head was the haughty chortle of Lucius Malfoy.

"A bit clumsy aren't we, Pettigrew? Can't you do anything without those three carrying you?"

Peter's moon shaped face went red as he tried to clamber out of the fountain as best he could., but that was impossible with his robes weighed down with water. He tripped on the edge and awkwardly caught himself, but it made Malfoy only laugh harder.

"Poor Peter, can't walk without his friends, let alone stand his ground," Malfoy howled slapping his knee. Peter's faced burned, but Malfoy was right what could he do. He could walk away. And that's what Peter did, his eyes blurring with hot tears as Lucius sang, "Peter Pettigrew the Hufflepuff in Gryffindor's clothing!"

Peter sat far in the back of the tranfiguration class. Water pooled around his desk and robes but he didn't care. He didn't care if he caught pneumonia. He didn't care cause he was weak and he always would be. He didn't care.

Then if he didn't care, why did these tears threatened to blind him and why did throbbing sobs stick in his throat. 

The other students stared at him but kept on walking to their usual spots and no one spoke until James walked in and slipped. A sniffling Sirius who dragged behind was able to catch him.

"Geez, Peter, are you trying kill us!" James asked, looking at the sopping floor around his stoned faced friend. Peter said nothing as they slid into seats beside him and Sirius asked in a stuffy sounding voice.

"What did you do, Peter? Throw yourself in the lake?"

The young man swung his blue eyes in a deadening glare at Sirius and the sickly Gryffindor held up his hands. 

"Sorry I asked!"

Peter turned his focus back to the head of the class. Humiliation burned inside of his chest as he heard the snickers that floated around the room. He wished they would all disappear. He wished they were gone!

"Peter Pettigrew!"

Peter choked as his throat seized tight at the sound of his name. He looked to see Mcgonangall at her desk, staring at him over the tops of her square spectacles. 

"yes, ma'am?"

"Pettigrew may I ask _why_ you are tracking water all over my class room?" She demanded curtly. 

"Fell in the fountain, Ma'am," Peter muttered, growing hot in the face as the class began to snigger. 

"What was that, Peter?"

"I fell into the fountain, Ma'am!" He shouted and the class went deathly still including the sniggers. They all looked at him with dumbfounded expressions and it contorted his, wishing they would all disenagrate into dust.

"Well, you'll just have to be more careful," McGonagall forced herself to say, after a moment. "Go to bathroom and dry off, dear," She said a bit more kindly. Peter rose stiffly from his chair and stalked out of the class room, pretending the water dripping from his robes were poison and would burn anything it touched.


	2. Something found

Luckily for the fifth year Gryffindor the boys bathroom was unoccupied, so he took out his frustration on his wet black robe, twisting and squeezing the garment as water fell onto the floor. He wished he knew why he was picked on. Why couldn't they pick on James or Sirius? Why couldn't they just leave him alone. Tears threatened to blind him again as he heard a small sound. He darted into the nearest stall so he wouldn't have share his grief. 

"You don't have to hide Peter, its only me," Came a sad, moping kind of voice. Peter peeked out of his stall to see a girl ghost hovering above the floor, her eyes shimmered with the shine of tears she could never finish shedding. 

"Oh, it's you, Myrtle," He said softly. She gave a smile, but it still looked sad and forced. Peter and the ghost talked a lot. He liked to think they were friends, since they had so much in common, other than the fact that she was dead.

"I saw what that nasty boy did to you," She said, "It was so mean. I used to shoved in the fountain too," Tears began to brim and usually Peter would try to comfort her, but his heart had grown a little colder. 

"They'll always shove people like us into fountains. They'll always hate us because they think their better," He gave his robes one last squeeze wishing so hard that it was Lucuis Malfoy's neck he held. Then he stopped and stared at his reflection in the puddle on the floor. "I wish someone would teach them a lesson. He Who Must Not Be Named taught the half-bloods to fear and now the high bloods think their immune,"

"Oh, Peter, you so brave!" Myrtle said in a half coo. She did a little Loop to loop in the air and Peter held out his hands in confusion.

"What are you talking about Myrtle, I didn't volunteer," Peter protested when something small and smooth feel into his palm, "what?" 

It was a ring, a small, plain, gold ring. Myrtle floated down and came nose to nose with him.

"Do you like it?" She asked intently. Peter took a step back nearly falling into the toilet behind him.

"Yes, it pretty," He said and fingered the ring's surface, "But where did you get it?"

"I found it, at the bottom of the lake," She said, looking rather proud of herself. "I thought it would make you feel better,"

"It does, but-"

"But?" She asked looking on the verge of tears again and several laughing voices made Peter remember, "But I have to get back to class. Thank you, Myrtle,"

"Anytime Peter," She said softly and dove into toilet behind him, splashing him with water. 

Peter gave a yelp, and look in disbelief at his wet robes. He felt anger well up but then it subsided as he remembered the trinket in his hand. He stared at it, intrigued.

"It _does_ make me feel better," He murmured and continued to inspect it all the way back to Transfiguration class.

McGonagall looked at Peter in disbelief as he entered the class, robes dripping more than when he had left. The rest of class was busily trying to turn pin cushions into hedgehogs.

"Pettigrew, my desk, please," She said in a thin sort of voice. The boy's daydreamed look vanish and he approached her as a child might a scolding parent. She folded her hands on her desk and looked over her square spectacles at him. "Peter, I thought you were going to the bathroom to dry off,"

"I did," He said softly and her eyes widen as an involuntary scoff escaped her lips.

"Pettigrew, your soaking wet, I don't like being lied to, now tell me where you went," She said impatiently.

"I went to boy's room and dried off, but Myrtle was there and she soaked me," He said quickly, deciding it best not to mention the ring. 

"If she did then why didn't you stay there and dry off again?" 

"I . . . " Peter stared at his feet, "I don't know," He muttered. 

"Well. Five points from gryffindor, maybe that will teach you not to lie,"

Peter looked up from his shoes in alarm, "but I didn't . . . !"

McGonagall shook her head as she went to sorting paper, obviously done with him, "honestly, Peter, you were the last person I expected anything like this from. I think you should stop hanging out with Sirius and get your priorities straighten, now take your seat,"

"But, Professor!" Peter exclaimed and McGonagall fixed a hard glare on him.

"Pettigrew, either you come clean and tell me the truth, or you take your seat or I will deduct another ten points," She said firmly. 

Peter exhaled sharply from his nose and turned and walked to his seat where both James and Sirius were displaying their perfectly transformed hedgehogs. Peter angrily pointed his wand at his pin cushion and it exploded in a cloud of cotton and needles flew everywhere. Students squealed and dove for cover.

When it was clear no one was hurt, McGonagall pointed at the door. 

"OUT, PETTIGREW!" She barked.


End file.
